


My Hero Academia: Shiketsu

by Primeval



Category: Monster Hunter (Video Games), 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia
Genre: F/F, F/M, Gen, M/M, Multi, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-03
Updated: 2020-05-15
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:06:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23985769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Primeval/pseuds/Primeval
Summary: While Japan's top hero school in Tokyo, UA High, has been having its own adventures, the top-performing school in the West of Japan, Shiketsu High, has been having its own adventures, all surrounding two main classmates: Odo Garon, a Catholic-raised boy with a dark past and an older brother with questionable motivations; and Azure Reusu, a Quirkless dragon-winged boy from a rich family who is trying to balance being a hero with continuing his musical aspirations (and hiding his Quirkless nature from his classmates).If there was one thing these two were learning on their journey to becoming a Pro Hero, it's that no human is born equal.





	1. Odo Garon: Genesis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CONTENT WARNING: There is a scene of violence in this chapter. Reader discretion advised

**_1 John 1:9_** **_"If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just and will forgive us our sins and purify us from all unrighteousness."_**

...That was the first of many lies I had been told from my childhood, or what little of it there was. As it turns out, He will never purify the unrighteous souls. He does not forgive. He is unjust. And yet, despite all of this, I still believe in Him and His guidance, and I will use it in this world of Heroes and Villains to purify us from the wrongdoings that have befallen our world.

My name is Odo Garon, and I will be a Hero.

* * *

Koriban Catholic Middle School, the place I have been reluctantly attending for a few years now at Father Priest’s insistence. It’s not a terrible building, and the material I learn here is beneficial if very dependant on the faith. However, today was a far more interesting day, as the teacher began to speak in a loud commanding voice, “Well class, soon you will be graduating from this school and be heading into high school, where you will be deciding your futures in this world. Now, anyone have any true ideas of where you wish to go next in life?”

His eyes scanned over the room with mechanical accuracy, murmurings easily heard among my fellow classmates, many of them admitting either to having no clue of where to go next or having overambitious future plans; only I had the gall to raise my hand and as the teacher pointed to me to hear my answer I proudly declared, “I’m hoping to go into a Hero School, to become a Pro Hero and save lives, using the teachings of God as my guidance.” Much to my dismay and surprise, the response from my peers was that of uproarious laughter, many questioning how much of a saviour I could be while constantly uttering the nickname that stuck with my childhood life: “Devil Child”. I never understood this nickname those that mocked me gave to me, and as I mature, I begin to question what makes this a bad thing. After all, the Devil is a being that punishes the evil, so surely being the child of a man that punishes villains in a society that glorifies heroes should be seen as a hero himself, no? I also do not understand why they think my becoming a Hero would be a silly notion, as my Quirk is Retractable Claws that fold out like large blades; perfect for handling any villain surely.

The mocking continued throughout the day albeit in a much more toned-down form, though the language was toned up until time came that I could escape from the cesspool of hypocrisy from those fellow students. The walk home was quiet, save for the occasional hooting of owls and clutter of rats in bins scavenging for scraps dimly lit by the street lamps and the bright lights in homes far better than my home. On my way home I came across a man by a lamp post, his body coated in a dirty blue sleeping bag and the nearby area surrounded with cardboard and newspapers. The only thing about him that seemed somewhat clean was a small red yamaka adorning his messy brown hair; he outstretched his arms holding a small metal tin filled with a few small coins. It was clear he wished for money to aid in his situation, and without question I pulled out a small pouch of coins and handed it to the man. It wasn’t much change, hardly enough for a bed to sleep in, but I wanted to help him in any way I could, however small that could be.

Returning home was never a fun moment of the day, as I live in a small, run-down church with a brother that was rarely there to greet me when I returned, although the other way around was a common occurrence. However, the Father Priest that ran this church was always there to greet me with similar harsh tones to his voice as the hypocrites I call fellow students. 

  
  
“You’re late,” the only words that escaped his lips as I arrived, placing my bag on the hook as he always requested with my black jacket placed on the hook beside it.

I looked down to the cracked floorboards, my light blue eyes still standing out among my dark skin and blood red hair as I rubbed my bicep nervously. I spoke shyly, “S-sorry Father Priest…”

  
  
“You stopped to help another one, didn’t you?”

  
  
“Y-yes, Father Priest…”

  
  
“Of what faith this time?”

  
  
“J-Jewish, I believe, Father Priest.”

  
  
With every response I gave he walked closer to me, but this final response caused him to grab at my shoulder, forcing me to look up at him as he explained, “We’ve talked about this Odo. I know your compassion begs you to, but when their God has forsaken them, it is not our job to aid them.”

  
  
“Well it should be!” I retorted with such aggression it made him release his grip from my shoulder. I did not know where this confidence had stirred from, but it seemed that I wished to share my own thoughts on this idea. “Even if their God forsakes them, it should be our duty as good civilians to help them. Not to bring them into our faith, rather to strengthen their belief in their own.”

Father Priest looked at me with a look of what appeared to be sheer rage, but before he could strike me, out from the shade appeared my brother, darker skinned than I with coral pink eyes, black hair and red claws as opposed to my pale beige claws, for we had similar Quirks. In a soft British accent akin to my own he spoke smoothly, “Leave him be, Father Priest,” fully emerging from the shadows to approach me and ruffle my hair gently. “After all, the boy is allowed to have his beliefs, is he not?”

  
  
“Not when it results in such tardiness and could result in him being in danger!” Father Priest looked back at my brother, deflecting his rage at me onto my brother, “And for goodness sake Ébano, surely you can see that your brother is only burdening us with his silly dreams of being a Hero. It won’t bring your parents back.” The soft yet sincere smile marking Ébano’s face turned into a grimace, giving me a slight nod to retreat to my bedroom, although I kept my ear pressed against the cold door, curious as to what Ébano would do.

  
  
Ébano gave a light chuckle before gripping the Father Priest’s robe by the white collar, growling like a large wolf at him. “Don’t you ever mention our parents in front of him again, and you better clean your act up, Father Priest. Do I make myself clear?” The Father Priest shook his head up and down frantically as he was slightly lifted off the ground, terror marking his face as if the Devil himself was holding him aloft. However despite the confirmation from Father Priest, Ébano was not satisfied with a simple nodding from him, so Ébano set his arm down onto the altar as he extended his claws, brushing their tips against the Father Priest’s forearm before driving them across his forearm to gash into the arm and sever three of the Father’s Priest’s finger, blood spraying onto one of the crosses in the room. “If you hurt Odo in any way again, it’ll be more than your fingers that go, understand?” The Father Priest nodded in even more terror as he reached for bandages and scurried away in fear.

Ébano smiled twistedly as he cleaned his claws before knocking on my door, opening the door slowly to sit down on my bed with me, my knees near my forehead as I muttered to him, “Would Mother and Father wish for me to become a Hero?”

  
  
He let out a soft sigh as he wrapped an arm around my shoulder and pulled me closer to him. “All I know is that they would support you as long as you were happy with your choice,” he explained in a soft tone as he traced the scar under my right eye with his finger. It was the scar I got the night they both died. I remember very little from that night excluding the fact that it was a car crash in which a shard of glass embedded itself under my eye. Doctors still say I was very lucky to not go blind in that eye.

“I don’t know if I am happy with my choice though, Ébano. It seems nobody in my middle school supports the idea of me becoming a Hero, and Father Priest is clearly disapproving of the lifestyle.”

  
  
“I know that you would make a fantastic Hero, Odo. You have a good heart; those doubters simply lack your extraordinary compassion. And soon enough, you’ll be on top of the world looking down at all of those doubters. And I’ll be there to support you no matter what.”   
  
Ébano began to pat my back, finally causing me to relax my legs down to a normal seating position as I looked up at him with a soft smile. “Thank you, Brother.” I managed to say softly to him as he stood up, going to leave before turning my television on for me as he shut the door. The TV was already tuned in to the only channel I cared for, a channel that gave the latest in Hero news and features. The headline at the bottom of the screen intrigued me:

  
**_BREAKING: ALL MIGHT TEACHING AT UA HIGH STARTING NEXT TERM_ **

This news both excited and confused me. All Might is Japan’s Number 1 Pro Hero, a former graduate of the best Hero School in Japan, UA High. And he was going to teach there? With the sheer magnitude of villains that wanted nothing more than the death of All Might, that would surely endanger the lives of the students of UA High, regardless how strong their security measures, any dedicated villain could tear down those walls. If the fact that I lived in Nagasaki Prefecture many miles from Tokyo where UA was located wasn’t a big enough spanner in my plan, but this news put the whole toolbox in the works of that plan. I unfurled my options form from my pocket and looked at it with worry, until I heard the next report from the news:

  
  
_ “And now news from Japan’s silver medalist in Hero Schools, Shiketsu High. The top-ranked Hero School located in Osaka has announced that they are constructing dormitory systems to help increase the safety and education of their students. Principal Morudo Munto spoke today that this dormitory system would also allow its students to follow the schedules and be able to accept students from all over Japan, from Okinawa to Hokkaido.” _

Well now, that would fix the housing issue as well as being judged from my Catholic neighbourhood…. Shiketsu High School, huh? 

I wrote the name down in pen at the top of my options form.

  
Sounds like God found my future for me…


	2. Odo Garon: Origin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CONTENT WARNING: There is a scene of violence in this chapter. Reader discretion advised

“Why did you have to scar Father Priest like that, Ébano?!” I had only heard slight screams of pain last night, however the bandages all over Father Priest’s arms and the missing fingers were enough for me to put the two puzzle pieces together easily. It’s not the first time I’ve seen Ébano be so violent with people in my life, but ever since the accident he has been more physical with his violence, and my anger towards him was evident as he walked with me to school that day.

“He dared to not only hurt you, but bring up the loss of our parents. It is simply unacceptable behaviour from a man of his faith.” Ébano argued, still trying to reach to hold my hand.

“But to scar him so permanently? Why?”

Ébano let out a soft sigh and explained, “I’m tired of people thinking our tragedy is an excuse to treat us worse or to give us such pity. They claim to be righteous, or to be on the hero side; yet they commit acts their Gods or Heroes would shun. They’re no better than villains.”

I stopped in my tracks, looking up at him with worry. Swallowing my nerves, I spoke, “Not everyone who does these deeds deserves to be scarred. Many of them just need the realisation that their deeds are wrong so they can improve.”   
  
Ébano walked back over to me, lifting my chin so he could look into my eyes. “Your compassion for others is exactly why people are wrong in their assumptions of you being a villain. There’s a stronger heart in your body than all of your classmates combined.” I smiled softly at his inspiring words as he continued, “Now, come on then. You wouldn’t want to be late for class now would you? By the way, don’t forget that you’re getting the groceries tonight. I gave you more yen than you need for it just in case you come across another person you wish to help.”

I chuckled softly as we arrived at the middle school. Waving Ébano goodbye, I ran across the tarmac playground to enter the building. Resting my jacket on one of the coat hooks, I headed into class. Classes were far more enjoyable for me as of late, as this was the final term of being in this asylum of cruelty and hypocrisy, so I could enjoy the classes more regularly even when the morons piped up with their “Devil Child” nonsense.

The bell ringing each period became more melodic to my ears as the day carried on, as it signalled the growing end of the day. All the “Devil Child” name-calling fell upon deaf ears as eventually at the end of Literature the bell rang for the final time that day. Hurrying out of the building after grabbing my jacket, I began my trek over to the nearest grocery store from home. It was a simple store, adjacent to a small petrol station, but inside contained all the supplies we needed: snacks, bread, drinks of the non-alcoholic variety, et cetera. After paying for the groceries, clutching the bag in my left hand, I headed down the alleyway back towards home; however, tonight was not going to be so simple and plain as the rest of the day had been.

Ahead of me I saw a pale-skinned man with black emotionless eyes and what appeared to be a black crown tattoo on his neck. He was pinning a woman against a brick wall, her purse discarded on the floor, its contents spilling into a puddle, and the position his arms were in meant only thing: something I dare not speak of. Her expression showed fear, so without thinking my left hand let go of the plastic bag, dropping it to the ground as I unfurled my claws and pounced; gripping the man’s arms with a slash across his forearms.

My claws weren’t perfectly blade-sharp, but they were sharp enough to cut into his forearms and make him release his grip from the woman, who grabbed her purse and stood back as I continued to make strikes and slashes at the man, many of them misses which allowed the man some time to open his hands and activate his own Quirk. Large industrial nails, the kind you’d see out of nail guns, shot out at me with ferocity, some stabbing into my shoulders. Normally I would cry out in pain here, but something was clearly pumping my blood enough to spur me on and make stronger slashes which this time began to land, eventually slashing across his face with my three largest claws on one hand, gashing into his flash to leave large wounds diagonally down both his eyes and through the middle. Spitting out blood, he weakly got up, snarling at me before running off, presumably to get aid for his wounds. The woman, however, looked directly at me, noticing the tears in my shirt from the nails and the destroyed groceries, the carton of milk spilling much the blood of that scum. 

She only had two words for me at that moment, “Thank you.”   
  
I looked up at her, wincing slightly as I removed the nails from my shoulders, turning to my groceries to find the lost food. Wasted money and no food, all because of my actions. Even if I explained to them what happened, Father Priest would be furious and Ébano would likely slice him up more. But much to my surprise, the woman walked over to me and placed a hand on my shoulder. “Oh dear, I’m sorry for this. Here, you want to go to the store with me to get new stuff?” She asked kindly. Looking up at her, I could see she was a mother of sorts. She certainly had a look of maternal care in her eyes, reminding me of my own mother; I felt forced from her memory to nod and take the woman’s hand, unfurling my claws beforehand.

“Thank you” I whispered softly as she walked with me to the grocery store. It was a far more up-market place than I had gone to, with more options of all kinds of produce that she put into a basket meticulously.

“Think nothing of it sweetie. You’re a very brave kid.” She admitted as we headed to the self-checkout to scan everything we had bought, “Plus with a Quirk like that, you would make a great Hero. Is that what you want to be when you grow up?”

  
  
“Y-yes ma’am.” I couldn’t help but hide my claws, even when they were sheathed. I felt awkward about them, as they made my arms far too unsightly compared to her far more fair hands.

“I understand. My child’s planning on doing the same. Who knows, maybe you’ll both be in the same class?” She chuckled softly as we headed out of the store. “However, you can’t be heading home with those marks on you in the open, you’ll get infected. Here.” She stopped to sit me down on a bench as she reached into her purse, putting plasters on my wounds. The way she acted towards me, it was as if Mother had never passed away. I guess all mothers have similar instincts? She gave me a soft smile as she waved goodbye, heading off to her home I presumed. 

Returning home, Father Priest looked to me with initial rage, before looking far more worried. Whether it was genuine concern for my injuries or it was because Ébano was in the same room, I’ll never know. All I knew was that I was still questioning that mother’s kindness towards me, a child that was not her own and that she didn’t need to help out.

Her sweet kind words did affirm one thing for me however. Whether Father Priest wanted it or not, I am going to become a Pro Hero.


	3. Azure Reusu

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter will be diverging from Odo's story to introduce the second protagonist of Azure Reusu and his cousins Gin and Gorudo. Hope you guys enjoy these characters too and since next chapter will be the entrance exam for Shiketsu I want your guys' input on whose perspective we should go with for this, or to do both character's perspectives in the chapter.

_ “He’s Quirkless.” _

In a society where roughly eighty percent of the world's population have some kind of unique superpower or Quirk, and every kid has the chance to live their dream of being a superhero, those two words are the most devastating thing a child my age could have heard. Especially since my sister and all of my cousins got one while I'm stuck with regular wings that can barely make me fly for 20 metres. They aren't even a Mutant type Quirk since everyone in my family has them, so my wings were bound to happen Quirk or not. It couldn’t be happening, surely? But it was. Those two words uttered by the doctor, and the X-ray in front of us confirmed it all; the chance of becoming a Pro Hero flatlined in a fraction of a second.

It just makes you wonder, what's a kid to do with his life when his dream is shattered in an instant?

* * *

  
  


My name is Azure Reusu.

I’m not like most people in the world, namely because I’m Quirkless and yet have a mutation to my body. No, I’m not like most people because I come from a very well-off family in Kyoto: the Reusu family. Both my parents, aunts and uncles all have something famous going for them. My dad? A Pro Hero by day and musician, goes by Phlogiston. My mom? Formula E racing driver for the newly formed Porsche team. Heck, my uncle Ōzoku is a Formula 1 driver, and my aunt Okotte runs a motorcycle shop but could easily go into MotoGP. As such, all eyes have been on my family for a while now, now doubt due to the fact that I’m half of 1 set of the 3 sets of twins the Reusu family have. Aunt Okotte’s kids, my older cousins Gin and Gorudo Reusu are the ones most hyped for great things, and considering how powerful their Quirks are, as well as how fast of a driver Gin is, I don’t blame them at all.

The 6 of us Reusus all attend a private middle school in Kyoto. It’s kinda nice here but everyone continues to haggle us around, touching our large wings whenever they can before Gin scares them away. Thankfully nobody in this school aside from my family knows I’m Quirkless, a decision I made when the news came in since all I wanted was to be a Hero; however, Dad did give me a great idea for a backup plan, the blue wooden electric guitar I carry around on my back at all times. Since that bad news day happened he would teach me how to play whenever he had free time, and I’ve been gradually reaching his level.

As we all sat down in our allocated seats in the pristine classroom the teacher cleared her throat and declared, “Today class we will be discussing your options going into your high school of choice. I know many of you are wishing to become Pro Heroes, and many of you do have the Quirks to make it to the top,” her eyes looked to my two cousins before darting back to look at the rest of us and continued, “however do keep in mind any other options. You don’t want to find out you’re ineligible for any of the schools you’ve picked by the final day now do you?”

A collective “No” was uttered throughout myself and my peers as the bell rang for recess. I looked towards my cousin Gin again. Once again two girls tried to make their way towards him to reveal a crush on him, but he simply looked away and got up to leave. Gin never was one for a lot of social interaction outside of the family. He had explained his reasons to me a long time ago, noting that due to his own Quirk and his strength as well as all the popularity our family gets, he feels like everyone that tries to befriend us is only doing so for financial gain or an ego boost. He simply looked towards me and his twin sister; a girl of golden hair and golden wings, Gorudo. It was clear he was looking for any excuse for us to escape this awkward social situation, so Gorudo and I walked over to walk with him to our favourite place in the whole school, the empty music room.

I wasn’t the only one in the family that Dad had taught how to play music, in fact he taught all of us a little music. Gin’s really good with percussion, Gorudo’s a great bassist, even my younger cousin Rio is pretty handy with any reed instrument. As such, we naturally gravitated towards the music room whenever we had the free time to play; Gin and Gorudo often joined me to make sure I wasn’t alone to play in the room. Today however, Gin was clearly preoccupied with other matters, very rarely hitting a beat on the drum set, holding the drumsticks together as if they were large chopsticks instead.

Feeling concerned for my older cousin, I put down my guitar and wandered over to him. Resting a hand on his shoulder I asked softly, “Is everything okay, Gin?”

  
  
“I’m worried, Azure. We have a huge possibility in front of us to become heroes or racing drivers, but in both of those options we can’t get you involved because of your Quirkless nature. I don’t want to leave you out of our lives all because you’re in the 20 percent,” Gin replied with a soft growl, “Plus Kaen’s been getting progressively worse as of late with his run to the MMA title.”

Kaen in Gin and Gorudo’s father, but with how scathing of a tone the two say his name in, you would think he wasn’t. He’s a heavyweight fighter in the MMA world, and a grade A scumbag; Aunt Okotte doesn’t want anything to do with him, and has been planning to divorce him for years; but everytime she wants to do so he finds some new loophole to keep his ties to the family. He actually took her surname to cement his place in the house. Nobody actually wants him there, but none of us are fully prepared to force him out, as he has a reputation for ruthlessness. He never loses to the same person twice.

Sensing Gin’s distress at the situation, as well as Gorudo’s slight concern as well, I enveloped them in my wings in a warm hug. “Kaen will be gone soon, trust me. And you guys shouldn’t be worrying about me. I’ll figure something out about this whole thing.” I reassured them.

“How can you be so sure, Azure? You don’t have a Quirk, that automatically wipes out like half the potential jobs you could want,” Gorudo butted in, showing equal amounts of concern for me as Gin was.

“Like I said, cus’, I’ll figure something out,” I retorted calmly, “You won’t be saying goodbye to me any time soon.” As I finished this sentence, the bell rang once more melodically. Putting our instruments away (with the exception of Gin), we headed back to our respective classes.

The rest of the day seemed to fly by with such momentum. I hid it from my cousins, but their words had actually caused me to genuinely worry about my future. Being a hero is all I’ve ever truly dreamed of, and there’s so many aspects to the hero world that do require me to have a Quirk to accomplish any of those aspects. I have my music sure, but I’ve only ever seen it as a hobby, much like how my Dad sees it. Truth be told, I was worried my future might be incredibly murky. And it only got worse when the bell rang for us to return home. It turned out that Gin had received a letter from Shiketsu High School. He had been accepted directly under recommendations from our Principal. 

Gin was surprisingly giddy on the way home, but not in a gloating manner, it was more surprise on his part. “I’m surprised it was Shiketsu of all places. They told me UA were also interested in having me, but Shiketsu seemed to just swoop in and give a better offer. Isn’t that crazy?” He explained in a tone of happiness I had never heard from him in a long time.

“Apparently all of us are getting application forms for Shiketsu,” Gorudo explained with a soft giggle, “Even you got one, Azure. Guess they're desperate or just don't know.”

  
  
I briefly stopped in my tracks at that news. It was very difficult to comprehend, even the calculus we were taught today was easier to understand than that news. The only thing I knew was excitement, to the point where I waved my cousins goodbye and flew straight home with a giddy expression on my face. Opening the door I was greeted to the usually empty home as usual. Dad was busy saving the town and Mom was in Sanya, China preparing for a race. Sure enough, on the doorside countertop was a white envelope with a dark blue wax seal indicating it was Shiketsu addressed to Azure Reusu. Without hesitation I grabbed the envelope and flew up to my room, placing my bag and guitar gently down in my room and tore into the envelope with such ambition. Inside was an application form to apply to Shiketsu High School’s famous Hero Course as a Pro Hero student. Reaching for the nearest black pen I began to fill out the form. Name, date of birth, any allergies, et cetera., it was all filled in within five minutes, with one big box in exception: “Quirk:”

My dream was right in front of me, on this sheet of paper, but the worry began to settle in. If I tell them I’m Quirkless, I’ll likely be rejected, and I’ll be without a future…

I don’t know what I was thinking, but I had filled in everything else already. It was too late to stop now.

I pressed the pen to the line to fill in a Quirk:  _ “DRAGON WINGS” _

Nobody needs to know that they’re only genetic.

I’m going to make my family proud.


End file.
